


Not Broken, Not Shattered, and Definitely Not Dirty

by momstiel



Series: Wincest Writing Challenge [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Has Nightmares, Dean Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hell Flashbacks, Hell Trauma, Hugs, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pie, Platonic Romance, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam is just really worried about Dean and it shOWs and GAH, Supportive Bobby, Supportive Castiel, Supportive Sam, Wincest Writing Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 07:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12053877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momstiel/pseuds/momstiel
Summary: Sam does everything he can think of to make Dean happy, but the smallest and very last resort may be the best.





	Not Broken, Not Shattered, and Definitely Not Dirty

Dean was a hero laced in tragedy. A red ribbon had wrapped itself around the man’s body, restraining him from proper movement. He was weighed down by all the hell he had witnessed, and that strip was his constant reminder. Just so fortunately, Sam happened to have the scissors that could cut right through. 

 

There was something about hell that changed Dean. He was already broken, but his forty-year sentence shattered him. The green in his eyes were replaced with a dull shade of grey. The man was so quiet, so strong, that it was easy to forget that he was breaking on the inside. 

 

“What can we do?” Sam questioned one night after his older brother had gone to sleep. He had recruited Bobby and Cas to discuss Dean’s current condition, all seemingly worried about the man. “He’s been drinking himself to sleep for weeks, and there’s just something off about him.” 

 

“There’s always been something off about that boy.” Bobby argued, covering his feelings with his usual tough, hardass self (that both Winchesters loved). “But I’ve got to agree, he’s bitching more often than usual.” He pointed out, considerably worried about whatever Dean had witnessed in hell. 

 

Castiel nodded his head a tiny bit at both points before bringing a new one to the table. “Hell is a strong, unrelenting pit full of despair. It is surprising he is not in worse condition.” The angel argued, having seen some pretty horrifying things himself when he gripped Dean tightly and raised him from perdition. 

 

Sam clicked his tongue, hazel eyes slowly moving away from Cas. “Well, as ever so uplifting as that statement was, I think we’ve all realized there’s something wrong with Dean.” He said, being sure to keep his voice down so that the older Winchester didn’t wake. “I just want to lift his spirits a little,” The younger man whispered, contemplating his next move. “How about we get some pie?” 

 

Bobby instantly gave Sam a skeptical expression, wondering how the hell a dessert could reverse the pain of Hell. Before he could critique the moose-man’s plan, Sam spoke up again. “Alright, alright. I know that pie won’t fix everything but it might at least make him smile a little bit. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him even do that, guys…” 

 

“Pie will not hurt.” Castiel agreed, deciding that it won’t solve the issue but possibly make Dean temporarily forget about his dilemma.  

  
Bobby sighed, putting his half-empty bottle down on the table. “Don’t ya idjits think that we should have a backup plan, ya know, if everything doesn’t go into place like a fairytale?” He pointed out, kicking his feet up. “I’ll try talking to him, get him to stop acting like a princess.” 

 

Sam frowned a tiny bit, finding that method a little harsh. The only thing that stopped him from talking up and dismissing Bobby’s idea was that he knew sometimes Dean just needed a slap in the face and some tough love to get back to usual. “Alright. Do we have anything else?” 

 

“Zed Leppelin.” Castiel suggested, knowing that Dean always had fun letting go and scream singing the lyrics on long road trips. Both humans let out a tiny amused chuckle.

 

“Led Zeppelin.” Sam corrected, knowing the angel probably didn’t know any better. It was a miracle that he even got that close to the name of the band in the first place. “But, you might be onto something. How about tomorrow morning he get up, go pick some pie. Maybe, then, we can play an album on the way back. See if that lifts up his spirits a bit. If not, Bobby will be waiting at home to talk.” 

 

All three seemed to be content with their resolution. Sam stood up, going to excuse himself from the table. “I’m heading to bed. See you in the morning.” He replied, going to turn when he saw Cas going to teleport out. “Oh, Cas, if you want you can stay. There’s room on the pull-out bed.” The angel bowed his head in appreciation, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to spend the time with them. He didn’t require sleep, but he was appreciative regardless.

 

* * *

 

The following morning came faster than Sam had really anticipated, but somehow at the same time it went as slow as molasses. Dean was dragging along, rather uncaring about his sibling’s idea for breakfast. Usually the man would jump on the idea, but today and every day since he returned from hell, he was painfully indifferent. Regardless, the two found themselves in the front of the impala (Cas popping in to chill in the back), heading to a nearby diner. Sam had heard about the infamous pie served there, and he hoped that Dean would be pleased with the snack. 

 

“So, what is the fascination surrounding pie?” Castiel asked, breaking the deafening silence that had cast itself over the car. Dean didn’t bother responding, he just looked in the mirror, sending the angel a disgusted and shocked expression. “Alright.” 

 

It wasn’t long before they reached the diner, swarming into the already busy area. Dean and Sam at on the booth, across from the inquisitive angel. Without much surprise, Dean ordered pie, Sam just a coffee, and Castiel a burger. In a desperate attempt to start a conversation, the younger Winchester opened his mouth. “Anyways, I’ve been reading up on a case. I think a few miles south in Baton Rouge, Louisiana there’s a vampire on the loose.” 

 

“Great.” Dean grumbled, vampires being a long-shot from his favorite thing. He hated hunting those blood-suckers. 

 

As the waitress came back, she dropped off all the items with the group of men. “Here you guys go, I’ll be back to check on you all soon.” Sam nodded respectively as Dean got out a fork and began to dig into his dessert. 

 

Both Sam and Cas discreetly stopped everything to watch Dean eat the pie out of the corner of their eyes. The green eyed hunter seemed to be enjoying himself, but alas, there was no smile on the face. “So, does the pie here really live up to all of its glory?” Sam finally asked, eyes openly fixated on his brother now. 

 

“I don’t give a shit where the pie is from, pie will always live up to its glory. But, honestly, this diner could have been better. Not complaining, though.” Dean replied before shoving another forkful of pie into his mouth.

 

* * *

 

Much to Sam’s dismay, Dean failed to give him the reaction that he had hoped for. The pie failed to bring anything more than a tiny lip twitch, and Castiel’s ‘Zed Leppelin’ idea didn’t go far. Dean had just hummed along to the songs, seeming to be preoccupied the whole ride home. The only thing left was his chat with Bobby. Sam and Cas had conveniently excused themselves from the room. 

 

“Dean.” Bobby said, taking a seat on the chair next to the couch Dean was sprawled across. The hunter had his arms covering his face, near empty beer bottle clenched in his hands. Upon hearing his name being called out, he peered out, green eyes landing on the other man. “This ain’t a Disney Movie, so get your sleeping beauty ass up and talk.” 

 

The Winchester groaned, glaring a tiny bit as he sat on up. He rubbed his face, visibly intoxicated. “I’m up, I’m up. Sue me for trying to get some shut eye.” 

 

“Look, I don’t want to turn this into some huge pity party. I’m running out of time in my life, and I don’t want to use it up giving out the limited amount of fucks I have.” Bobby replied, eyes on the other. It saddened him deeply to see the son he practically raised in such of a poor emotional mindset. “I love ya boy, but we’re all worried sick. Sam’s running himself thin trying to get a smile out of ya. We ain’t asking for some magical therapy session where you talk out your problems. But you can’t go around carrying this burden of hell on your shoulders, we’re here for ya. So get your head out of your ass and realize that you’re no longer down there, partying with the demons. You’re up here, surrounded in a bunch of hardasses that worry about ya.” 

 

Dean looked at Bobby for a second before averting his eyes. “I think you all are imagining it.” He accused, but before he could get anymore bullshit out, his father figure interjected. 

 

“That’s crap and we both know it, son,” He shook his head in disapproval. “You’ve got a few loose screws if ya think we’re just imagining it. I don’t know what it is, but something happened in hell and it’s so fucking evident. Whatever happened, you can tell us.” 

 

“Well, there’s nothing.” Dean argued, getting up and leaving the room. As he turned into the hallway, he paused for a second, seeing Sam and Cas waiting patiently right there. Irritated and intoxicated, the Winchester pushed past them and headed upstairs to the room Bobby was allowing him to stay in.

 

* * *

 

Once Dean got into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him, he punched the wall. His knuckles ached, starting to bruise and drizzle out blood, but he remained emotionless. All day, every day, Dean felt himself being dragged down by his memories of Hell.  

>  
> 
> _ “You’re going to break, Dean Winchester.” Alastair hissed in that same voice he had been using for the past twenty years. There was something about it that managed to send chills down Dean’s spine. He had started to acquire the fear of the tone, knowing that whenever he heard it, torture was bound to follow.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ For the first few years, Dean always had some kind of sassy remark. However, his will to do that had been long destroyed. He just now remained chained up, being Alastair’s little rag doll. Sharpening his knife, and eyeing his selection of tools, the demon looked nothing less of sheer nightmare fuel. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “How shall we play again, today?” The demon teased, running the tip of the blade across Dean’s bare chest. _

 

Snapping himself out of it, Dean looked down at his fist. Every single time he tried to move on, Hell lingered around him. The man made his way over to the bed, sitting down right on the edge. He had drank himself silly, but he was no light-weight, and the thoughts were still probing him. Dean was dirtied and ripped because of his experiences, and now it wasn’t going away. 

 

There was a faint knock on the door that kicked Dean out of his deafening thoughts. Sam snuck in, approaching his sibling. “Dean, I just wanted to come in and check on you. I heard something slam into the wall.” 

 

Far too exhausted to really argue, Dean just put his head back down on his pillow. “Well, your ears work then.” Not discouraged by his brother’s sass, Sam came in and made his place on the vacant side of the mattress. 

 

“Are you alright? It looks like you’re going to have a wicked hangover tomorrow morning.” Sam pointed out, noticing how wrecked the other hunter was. He had been around Dean enough to know when he was hammered. “Mind if I sit here for a little bit?” 

 

“Go ahead.” Dean replied, turning on his side. He closed his eyes a little bit. His mind traveled elsewhere as he just sat in silence, forgetting that Sam was there. For once, his thoughts didn’t jump head-first into the pain of the past. Instead, he couldn’t help but think about all the times a young Sam would crawl into his bed when he was terrified. 

 

> _ “Dean, it was scary!” A seven year old Sam whined, turning the tv off and throwing the remote to the side of the floor. They were watching a kid’s show, but the second that a clown came onto the screen, Sam was done. He had decided to sneak into Dean’s bed that night.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “If you say so, Sammy.” Dean replied, not being able to wrap his head around the fact his kid brother was so afraid clowns. He knew there were other real, and terrifying things out there. Things far more terrifying than a bunch of adults running around wearing bright colors and makeup. Regardless, he had allowed his little brother to join him under the covers.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ For a few seconds they just laid under the sheets, but as time went on, Dean noticed his brother was inching towards him. It wasn’t long before they were intertwined, silently taking in each other’s warmth. _
> 
>  

Sam was,in fact, very scared. Maybe it wasn’t because of clowns, but it was still just as huge. The younger Winchester of course remembered the last time he had sat in Dean’s bed. He was terrified, and his brother would hold him throughout the night. Now, so many years had passed and here he was yet again on the edge of the mattress. 

 

He was terrified that his older brother was gone, and replaced with this empty shell of a man. In one last attempt to get any kind of reaction out of Dean, he began to slip under the blankets. At this point he wasn’t really sure if the bowlegged hunter was asleep or not. Now, he slipped behind the man and wrapped his arms around him. 

 

For a second, there was no response - negative nor positive. Sam subconsciously held his breath as he waited, and let out a sigh of relief when he felt Dean cuddle back into him a little bit. It was a small movement, Dean pressing his back against his brother’s chest, but it felt like the world to Sam. It  _ was _ the world to Sam. It had been forever since his brother reciprocated any kind of positive attention. Wrapping his arms around Dean, Sam closed his eyes. 

 

“I’m dirty…” Dean mumbled drunkenly a few seconds before the other was able to fall asleep. Sam looked down at the man he had in his arms. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but it sounded like the other was finally ready to speak to him a little bit. 

 

“You’re dirty?” Sam asked, not really sure what Dean was trying to get at. 

 

A tiny hiccup escaped the older Winchester’s throat. “Mhm.” He nodded, almost bumping into Sam’s chin. “I’m not righteous. I’m s-shit,” He grumbled. “Hell has made me dirty and now I can’t come clean again.” 

 

“You are not dirty,” Sam said firmly. “And you don’t need to come clean again. You’re already clean. Let’s just keep on moving, alright?” His voice was soft; tiredness and care sprinkled in between each syllable. 

 

There was a long pause before Dean slowly began to nod. “Promise?” He asked. 

 

“Promise.” Sam replied, and that was enough for Dean in his drunken state. Maybe in the morning they’d need a full blown conversation, but right now it was enough. The present was what really mattered, and they’d worry about the future when time came around. Dean, intoxicated but happy, was able to sleep for once, and that’s what Sam really cared about. 


End file.
